


The Valentine Reunion

by allthebeautifulthings9828



Series: Destiel Smut Brigade Valentine's Day Fic Dump [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Author Castiel, Bottom Castiel, Bottoming from the Top, Castiel Loves Dean, Closeted Dean, Cop Dean, Dean Loves Castiel, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Explicit Sexual Content, Famous Castiel, Fluff, Handcuffs, Human Castiel, Kissing, Light Bondage, Love, M/M, Manhattan, New York City, Oral Sex, POV Dean Winchester, Police Officer Dean, Porn, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rich Castiel, Riding, Romance, Secret Relationship, Sex, Smut, Top Dean, Topping from the Bottom, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, Writer Castiel, destiel au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 07:20:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3348470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthebeautifulthings9828/pseuds/allthebeautifulthings9828
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>NYPD officer Dean Winchester has been secretly dating renowned author Castiel Novak for two months but those two months have been marked by frequent separation. Castiel's career moves forward into the movies, although no one knows the two men love each other. They are reunited just in time for Valentine's Day, and rather than spend it out in crowded Manhattan, they stay in bed with a box of truffles and Dean's police handcuffs. A fun, adventurous night turns surprisingly serious in the end as they try to navigate a powerful love in secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Valentine Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the sequel to The Scribe of Park Avenue at http://archiveofourown.org/works/2746367 found in an earlier Destiel Smut Brigade challenge.

Castiel's eyes drew in moonlight through the window. His lips twitched around a chocolate truffle carefully held in his teeth and it looked, to Dean anyway, like he struggled not to smile. He bent over Dean, who lay sprawled and wonderfully helpless on his bed, and nudged the chocolate truffle against his lips. The bittersweet taste filled his mouth as he bit into his half, punctuated by the fruity tart burst of raspberry cream.

"I told you chocolates on Valentine's Day weren't boring," Castiel murmured once he swallowed his part of the truffle.

An arrogant smile tugged at the left side of Dean's mouth. "Is this where your plan ends? Get me all trussed up here in my own friggin handcuffs and fatten me up with expensive candy?" His smug expression blended into true enjoyment of the production even though he had intended to make Castiel pay for going off on a meeting in Los Angeles without him. "You're not gonna have time to hold me prisoner like this when your book option deal goes through."

"Oh, I'll always have time for a naked NYPD officer in my bed," assured Castiel. As he spoke, he moved over Dean's legs and held them down on the mattress, long aristocratic hands stretching upward over his thighs. Eyes illuminated faintly blue in the moonlight sized up the profound state of Dean's arousal curving up toward his abdomen. "Besides, I don't see you complaining any."

"I can't. You made it home for Valentine's Day."

Castiel's mouth curved in a tender smile. "I always keep my promises."

In truth, Dean had been fighting his own arousal all day simply knowing Castiel would be home that night. He showed up at the Park Avenue apartment building with jeans tight and restrictive with anticipation. Castiel had been gone more than a week. Successful authors were always busy that way, but his very own author was being courted by Warner Brothers to option his wildly popular and acclaimed crime novels into a movie trilogy. It meant selling the rights to his characters, even the newest one based on Dean, but it also meant frequent trips to the west coast. As a New York City police officer, Dean simply didn't have the vacation time to go with Castiel whenever he traveled.

Of course, it wasn't possible to be seen with Castiel frequently either. Neither of them were open about the blurred lines of their sexualities, although fans of the books long since began gossiping about it. Dean couldn't bring himself to tell even his brother over the years despite maintaining several men on the side in between the occasional girlfriend. It was all very muddled until Castiel came along just before Christmas. They'd only been seeing each other for two months but frequent separations forced them to talk and get to know each other from vast distances. It wasn't just sex. It was love. Sudden, unexpected, consuming love that left both of them breathless, sometimes confused, but always addicted to each other. Love really was the missing puzzle piece in Dean's life, though he preferred expressing it through adventurous sex than candy and flowers. Castiel, on the other hand, pushed him deeper into the inner workings of his heart and proved himself quite the poetic soul that way.

"I'm goin' with you next time," Dean stammered in dry breaths, shuddering as Castiel's wet, full lips kissed lines around his thighs. "Call me your assistant or something. I can't stay away."

The man hovering over him, usually so prolific, remained silent. Dean's muscles constricted against the handcuffs looped around a post in the headboard. He tested Castiel's weight as he tried shifting his legs and turning his hips toward the warm confines of a smooth mouth. Much to his surprise, Castiel obeyed and lips slipped over the slick head of Dean's cock, causing his hips to jerk in a jolt of raw pleasure. The tip of his tongue swirled and teased in all the right ways. Soon his dark, tousled head began bobbing with the rhythm meant to render Dean powerless and dumbstruck. They hadn't been seeing each other long but Castiel already understood so much about him. Dean's head fell back, his neck curled in blissful pain, and all he wanted to do was pull Castiel's hair and fuck his mouth, yet the handcuffs and the weight of the man kept him mercilessly still.

Wet streaks of saliva shined along the thick length of Dean's cock, he noticed, looking up again to commit the sight to memory. He disappeared into Castiel's mouth again and again until his vision blurred and he was no longer aware of the ragged panting drying out his throat.

And then Castiel let go.

"Why'd you stop?" he rasped.

"You're not the most patient man," Castiel replied evenly.

The abrupt cool air in his luxurious bedroom shocked Dean's skin in the absence of his lover's body heat. He blinked and tried to focus on the dark shape scooting over the bed to grab something off the nightstand. Raising up on his knees and straddling Dean's midsection gave the cop an unobstructed view of the writer's athletic body. Even in a room filled with moonlight, Dean noticed the thick tightness of Castiel's thigh muscles with the effort to hold himself up in such a hard condition. His cock jutted out urgently from his pelvis, slick already, as if simply looking at Dean made him want to climax without being touched. Arms tightened with unseen strain and defined muscles up over his shoulders and across his chest. He wasn't as big as Dean, of course, but the strength ran through his body unobtrusively like swift water through a river.

Castiel squirted a measure of lubricant into the palm of his hand and threw the bottle on the floor. So that was what he reached over Dean to grab. His stare burrowed into Dean's face right through to his soul as he silently and simultaneously stroked the both of their agitated cocks in either hand. For Dean, it seemed necessary like preparation. For Castiel, it seemed selfishly and deliciously for self-gratification as if staring at Dean became his own private pornographic show that required it.

"You gonna let me go so I can fuck you already?" demanded Dean through gritted teeth.

"No," Castiel replied without hesitation.

"C'mon, Cas...." In fact, he was on the verge of whining and begging.

The man above him bent forward with a leering smile. "You're my Valentine's Day gift." A predatory tone slithered around each syllable and he knowingly slid his pelvis in a long line against Dean, his cock sending sparks over Dean's skin.

"Asshole," Dean slurred.

"You love me," purred Castiel, kissing his throat.

"I do." The cop's body liquified on the pillows, perfectly willing then to be a toy--a muse--for the artistic soul playing with him.

Once satisfied that Dean wouldn't struggle, it seemed, Castiel raised upright again. His fingers looped around the root of Dean's painfully aroused flesh. The room blurred as Dean's cock encountered the firm, athletic shape of Castiel's ass, nearly jerking up off the bed to bury himself as deep as he dared. Ankles hooked over his knees though, displaying Castiel's astonishing flexibility, and the position left him immobile.

Their bodies joined under Castiel's direction. Pent up sighs of relief escaped both of them after being separated for more than a week. Dean wanted to hold his hips, to touch the plains of his skin, to learn each dimple, curve, and hard edge, yet he couldn't move. He let his eyes do what his hands could not, memorizing each expression of agony and pleasure on his shadowed features. Only shallow breaths hinted at Castiel's climb through physical bliss as was his habit of quiet lovemaking, but his thighs pulsed and released around Dean's hips with each thrust. Control and measure soon gave way to shortened gasps and twitching limbs as if the muscles themselves resisted arching into orgasm too soon. Dean chewed his bottom lip in his own effort to keep control while the lover riding him harder and harder with each turn seemed to bite his lip for silence.

Minutes blended into seconds or hours--Dean couldn't be sure--but he gradually lost the battle for control over his body. Every pump of blood through his heart, each growling moan, and the very muscles making his body arch up into Castiel surrendered to the physical. He surrendered to Castiel.

A clawed hand dug into his shin, suddenly pulling him back to reality long enough to sweep his eyes over the long tanned line of Castiel's body stretched back over him. The arch of his shape changed the angle of Dean's dripping cock through his body and all semblance of control shattered for the writer. He writhed as he rode Dean, sharp gasps turning into low, drawn out groans--each of which struck Dean low in the belly where the fires of orgasm stoked.

His mind conjured images of his rough palm clamping around Castiel's cock thrusting into the air right there in front of him. He'd fuck his lover with a rough fist until he couldn't take the dueling sensations of riding Dean and fucking Dean's fist at the same time. The filthy movie parading through the cop's mind had his balls tightening, ready to burst in fire. As if Castiel read his mind, one of his hands snaked over his hip and curled around his neglected cock. He turned the tables without knowing it, forcing Dean to give up control of his thoughts as he watched his lover's hips roll with each thrust and stroke. Sweat cooled Dean's brow and chest. He managed to free his lower half enough to meet each of Castiel's thrusts with his own.

Being equally matched set the both of them ablaze together. Castiel rode Dean and Dean fucked Castiel in upward, violent, stabbing turns of his hips. Deep, rough groans filled the room putting both of them in a race to decide who would come first. A verbal man like that writer never uttered a word but instead gave himself over to raw sensation, flinging himself wholly upright as bursts of white erupted from his cock. Stickiness coated his hand as his fist flew roughly around the engorged limb. Deliciously filthy moans spilled from his mouth as his hips slowed into deliberate, wicked strokes, milking Dean's aching cock in return.

It wasn't until the blue eyes made silver by moonlight flashed over his face that the coil of electric pulsing spiraled through his body. Only a violent, abrupt arch of his body signaled completion. The force of it took him by such force and such urgency that he couldn't make a sound. He couldn't breathe. He only felt Castiel surrounding him.

Dark hair tickled Dean's chin after a time. Had he been asleep? He stretched, and then realized his wrists weren't bound anymore, though his arms remained tossed over his head. The handcuffs were unlocked for him. He massaged the red lines indented in his flesh where the strain of rough lovemaking had marked him. The body draped over his stirred and made sleepy sounds, a living blanket keeping him warm and being warmed in return. All thoughts of his marked wrists faded as Castiel's weight settled sleepily on his chest and his hands splayed over his lover's naked back.

"Did you have a good Valentine's Day?" Castiel's drowsy voice murmured, breath puffing on his collarbone.

"Yep," replied Dean. He was never good at speaking endearments in the aftermath.

"I was thinking of not ... hiding ... anymore."

That stopped Dean's heart for a beat. "You mean you wanna come out?"

"It's not a debutante ball. I hate that term--coming out. I just mean that I want you to come with me when I travel and I don't want to lie about who you are to me."

"That's a big deal," whispered Dean thoughtfully.

"I know," he whispered back, "and I won't acknowledge you in public if you're not ready for people to know about you. I just ... don't want lies around us. Everything about me centers on you now. I'm not ashamed of it."

"Neither am I." Dean's fingertips drew lazy, incoherent lines around the back of Castiel's neck and stared drowsily at the Manhattan skyline through the window.

"There are worse things in the world than being in love." A teasing lilt heightened Castiel's words. "In any case, I'm planning a new book. You're not going to read it until it's done and then you can decide whether we'll be in public together or not. It'll be my most important work, I think."

"What's it about?"

Castiel remained silent for a time, and then he murmured: "The story's my love letter to you. That's all you get to know for not." He paused, drifting into a sleepy tone again. "You're not a patient man, Dean."

"I know," he whispered, kissing Castiel's temple.


End file.
